


Curiosity

by timelxrd-victorious (Brambleshadow_of_WindClan)



Series: The Time Lord Victorious [21]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alien Biology, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Call Girl, Alternate Universe - Dark, BDSM, Dark Doctor (Doctor Who), Dr Nyarlathotep, F/M, Nonbinary Character, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut, Time Lords Are Aliens, Tumblr Roleplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-23
Updated: 2016-04-30
Packaged: 2018-06-03 22:36:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6629743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brambleshadow_of_WindClan/pseuds/timelxrd-victorious
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the Doctor accepted an invitation (read: made the appointment) to see the Lady Adalwolf for the night, he'd only wanted to partly satisfy his curiosity as to her reputation.</p><p>He should have remembered how that turned out for the cat.</p><p> </p><p>[Co-written with <a href="http://bad-wolf-girl-returned.tumblr.com/">badwolfgirlicouldkissyou</a>.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Co-written with [badwolfgirlicouldkissyou](http://bad-wolf-girl-returned.tumblr.com/) and based on one of our threads.
> 
> This is an AU fic for both characters involved. This Rose is older than the one last seen in _Journey's End_ , and she turned to life as a call girl after an encounter with an alternate Tenth Doctor that went wrong _really_ fast and left her jaded, cynical, and broken.
> 
> This Doctor is my own Dark!Ten RP muse who lost all faith in humanity after encountering the Midnight entity, never came down from his Time Lord Victorious state in _The Waters of Mars_ , and refused to save Wilfred from death by radiation poisoning. By this point in his timeline he's been on his own for a while now. (He's also got some rather... _interesting_ biology and habits.)
> 
> Oh, and yes, this whole entire thing is basically PWP with maybe a hint of angst. I also had to split it into two chapters, because it would have been far too long otherwise. 
> 
> **Translations:**  
>     
>  _Savira’ra, Arkytior:_ Fuck me, Rose [Gallifreyan]
> 
>  _chan_ : no [Scottish Gaelic]
> 
>  _Cac!_ : Shit! [Scottish Gaelic]
> 
>  _Cum air falbh!_ : Stay away from me! [Scottish Gaelic]
> 
>  _Creachaidh tu mi_ : You will ruin me [Scottish Gaelic]
> 
>  _A chrostag sguir a dh’obair orm!_ : You naughty girl, stop teasing me! [Scottish Gaelic]

“Thank you for your business, sir,” Madame Lyss said, handing the Time Lord a key to the suite for the evening. He’d paid a substantial amount of money for an evening with the Lady, but then… she had a reputation. Normal clients would hire her for an hour… maybe two. Abnormal clients like this one would buy an entire night.

“Lady Adalwolf is Suite 10. Top floor, end of the hall. You will knock twice so she knows it is a client. No more, no less. She doesn’t like it when clients come in wearing shoes, so I suggest you leave your trainers at the door before entering the suite. You will wait until she grants you entrance. If you have no further questions, you may go upstairs,” the older woman instructed, gesturing to the stairs behind and to the left.

The Doctor flashed her a quick, tight smile before pocketing the key and followed the direction of her gesture, headed up the flights of stairs to the top floor. Once at the end of the hall in front of Suite Ten, he toed off his trainers, rapped twice on the door.

She had been expecting a client. Arrangements had been made a day in advance due to the nature of the request. A Lady such as herself couldn’t simply drop her appointments because of one man, of course.

It was such that, as the door was knocked upon, she was already in position, one leg crossed over the other, entire body in shadow and only her golden hair reflecting the moonlight that cascaded through the window behind her. Cigarette in hand, she ashed it in a free standing ashtray.

“Enter,” she said and waited until the door was shut behind him completely before speaking again. He would not see her face just yet. Not until she was ready for him to see it.

Of course, the face he wore… it wasn’t entirely surprising. He wouldn’t be the first with that face to come see if the stories were true. He wouldn’t be the last.

“You may sit wherever you like,” she said with a bored tone before taking a long drag from her cigarette. “We have some business t’attend to b’fore we begin the evening’s events. Don’t worry, you’ll not be charged this time. But first, I’ll need you comfortable. The questions I’ll be askin’ will require full disclosure or this won’t work.”

The Doctor nodded shortly, cast his eyes around the room for a place to sit, and settled down in what looked like a very comfortable chair. “Fire away,” he said casually, leaning back in the chair and crossing one of his long legs over the other.

He’d recognized the voice instantly—of _course_ he had—and a rather large part of him was curious to see if this was actually Rose or an alternate version of her. Either way… was perfectly fine with him, to be honest.

That’s when she leaned forward. She knew all too well what she was doing, as the faint light from a candles surrounding her bed washed over her face casting amber shadows dancing through her hair.

“Hello, Doctor,” she said with a manic grin that was anything but pleasant. She would _enjoy_ this. “First question… are you afraid of the big Bad Wolf?”

“What makes you say that?” It came out sharper than he’d intended. His body tensed involuntarily—an instinctive reaction—and he resisted the urge to shrink back in the chair, away from her.

Lady Adalwolf stood from her perch and practically glided across the room until she towered over the Time Lord. She took his chin in her hand, maybe a bit too roughly.

“You paid for the night,” she stated, eyeing his freckles. “You didn’t come here t’sleep with the woman that could have been yours. You came t’see what became of her. You all do. Don’t toy with me, Doctor. I know who you are. It’s funny, when I was desperate to get back to you all those years ago I couldn’t find you. Now that I’ve stopped it’s like I can’t get away from you. Your face keeps showin’ up through that door. Over and over again. Why?”

The Doctor swallowed hard, mouth suddenly dry. “I… I don’t…” He couldn’t help flashing back to the last time he’d seen her face in a red room—only it hadn’t been Rose, it had been _her_ —the Bad Wolf. And even though this wasn’t quite her—she’d changed, as had he—every sense he possessed was homing in on her scent, on where she was gripping his chin in her hand a little rougher than necessary. His eyes raked over her body; he could feel his hearts start to beat faster in response.

Since he couldn’t think of an answer to her question, he went on the offensive: “I don’t know why alternate versions of me keep following you, but I didn’t come here to see what had happened to you. You’re a call-girl now? Fine—I’m not going to persuade you to change that.” Something dark, sly glinted in his brown eyes. “I’m wanted by several different organizations myself—Torchwood, UNIT, the Shadow Proclamation, probably the Time Agency for all I care. But what I want right now… is you. _All_ of you.”

His eyes held hers in a challenge as he closed his fingers over the hand gripping his chin, pried it away yet made no move to let go. Instead he slowly swiped his thumb over the inside of her wrist, surreptitiously felt for her pulse.

_“Savira’ra, Arkytior.”_

She frowned at that, twisting her wrist from his grip.

“Don’t use that language around me, Doctor,” she snarled. “That might’ve worked with your Rose, but not me.”

She gripped him by the collar and forced him into a stand, turning them so his back it toward the bed. In one motion she pushed him down so he landed on his back, sprawled out on the mattress.

“You want me t’fuck you, Doctor?” she asked in a dark voice. “Oh… You’re in my chambers now. If you wanna be fucked, I’ll have my fun with you first. And you’ll _thank_ me for it.”

He grinned, eyes dark with a mixture of lust and anticipation. “If that was foreplay, I’m all in.”

“Foreplay?” she asked in a dark tone. She crawled up his body until her knees were on either side of his chest. She sat down on his stomach. “This is just the beginning of foreplay, Time Lord…”

Her lips ghosted over his throat, hands running up his arms to his wrists, guiding them over his head.

_Click._

She’d handcuffed him to the bed.

She smirked. “You will speak when spoken to,” she said in a dark voice. “If you speak b’fore given permission I will gag you. You will thank me for everything I give you and you will not touch me without my permission.”

With that her smile dropped and the climbed off the bed, heading toward her wall of toys.

His eyes tracked her movements as she climbed off the bed and headed over toward a wall, raked appreciatively over her body. It wasn’t that he hadn’t enjoyed looking at her when she’d been traveling with him—he had—but he’d been too much of a coward to even _admit_ his feelings for her, let alone act on them. Running into several other versions of her since then had helped with that somewhat, but right now…

He had to admit, he was curious and more than a little excited to see where she was going to take this and what she had planned for him.

Chosen implement in hand, she strode back to the helpless Time Lord. Of course she knew he could break through his handcuffs without having to even try, that just made it more fun.

The Lady frowned. “You’re far too clothed,” she said in a dark voice. Her eyes flashed gold and his clothing disintegrated around him in an instant. “Better…” she murmured, eyes returning to their normal color.

She smirked at his expression. “Are you afraid now, Time Lord? Did you not do your research before comin’ t’see me? Adalwolf? Means Noble She-Wolf. I used t’be Rose Tyler-Noble. Now I’m just the Bad Wolf…”

His mouth went dry as the full impact of her words hit him. _“Chan,”_ he breathed, felt his hearts beat faster with fear. Suddenly he wanted to shrink back and disappear, or run the hell away and never stop.

This wasn’t a dream anymore—it had turned into a nightmare. And if he’d been slightly anxious ever since she’d asked him about the Big Bad Wolf before, _now_ he was terrified.

 _Cac! Cac!cac!cac!_ What came out instead was: _“Cum air falbh!”_

The golden glow vanished at his panicked words, leaving only her smirking face.

“Now I’ve got your attention,” she stated darkly. “You asked me t’fuck you. You never said how.” She cracked a cat of nine tails in his general direction. “I promise not t’do that again if you promise t’behave. You want t’sleep with Rose, you have t’make it through the Lady first.”

The Doctor swallowed hard, forced down the terror that was clawing at his insides. “Yes, milady.”

 _Omega,_ what _have I gotten myself into?_

The Lady sneered at that. “Good boy,” she purred darkly. “Normally we go through all sorts of questions about pain tolerance. However, I happen t’know exactly how hard I can hit a Time Lord, so I think we can forgo that whole nonsense…”

She raked the cat of nine tails down his slender body, letting him feel the soft leather trace the contours of his ribcage.

_Crack._

It wasn’t even hard enough to sting a Time Lord, but enough to get his attention. “The safe word is red…”

The Doctor flinched—an involuntary reaction—as the leather whipped his skin. Dark eyes on hers, he nodded slowly to show her he’d heard.

“Continue,” he whispered. Normally he wouldn’t have surrendered this quickly, wouldn’t have given anyone this much control. But right now, with his emotions a tangled mess of fear, terror, and desire… he _wanted_ her to lead.

“…Do whatever you want to me.”

“That’s more like it,” she growled, whipping him a second time. Then a third. By the time she was satisfied his chest was delightfully pink. She would push him just to the point where he might safeword and then stop before he needed to.

“You’re enjoyin’ this,” she taunted. “Look how hard you are. You’re leakin’ precum all over my sheets. But I’m not done with you yet. Not by a long shot, Time Lord.”

She crawled over his body, hovering just above him. She didn’t touch his skin in anyway… not yet. “That was just the warm-up round, pet. I’ll have you beggin’ for my wet pussy before this night is over. And you will beg….”

“Minx.” There wasn’t as much bite to the word as he’d wanted, but oh _gods_ this was torture already. He wanted her to kiss him, taste him, wanted her to run her hands all over his body….

A low groan left him at all the little timelines he could see starting to play out inside his head, each more erotic than the next. Unable to keep still, his hips shifted, searching for the warmth and friction he _needed_.

Another possible timeline had him swallowing hard, halfway shutting his eyes and tilting his head back to expose his throat.  “ _Creachaidh tu mi_ ,” he rasped.

The Lady only chuckled at his desperate and needy tone. “So you did love your Rose…” she murmured. “I loved her deeply. You miss her. That’s new. The Time Lords I see have never cared this deeply for their Rose. Never needed her this much.”

Her lips ghosted along his throat. “Tell me, Doctor,” she whispered, hot breath the only thing touching his flesh. “Tell me how much you need me. How desperate you are. If I believe you, I’ll give you what you seek. If not, I’ll get the cane down…”

Even when he’d been all leather and big ears and blue eyes he’d never been able to refuse her, and he didn’t want to start now. His thoughts were a mess, trying to form _something_ that would come out sounding halfway coherent.

 “I never told you and I should have, shouldn’t have left you, should’ve…” The words left him before he was aware that he’d made the decision to speak, but now that he’d started he couldn’t stop—didn’t want to stop.

A shiver raced through him—she was so _close_ yet so far away, and the heat from her body was maddening. His eyes closed fully for a second before snapping open, meeting her own.

 “Too many wasted chances.” A bitter, mocking half-smile played at his mouth then was gone. “I’ve wanted you ever since I took your hand and told you to run, but that me never acted on our feelings for you. Too much of a coward. So was _this_ me, really—all those times I wanted to make love to you and I never did.”

Another flash of tantalizing timeline had him shifting beneath her, biting back a faint growl. “That night after the spaceship and France and clockwork droids… I kept waiting for you to come to me, but you never… I would’ve let you claim me, mark me, take me back from a ghost that never existed in the first place.”

For a second, the mask of arrogance in his eyes slipped and was replaced by something close to fear and desperation. “I’ve killed myself once for you. Will you be the death of me again?”

“Such a confession of your hearts,” she purred, hips sinking down to make contact with his own. Her knickers are the only thing that separate their sex and he should be able to feel how sopping wet she is at her core. Something about the power over a Time Lord did that to her. Drove her into such a lust induced high she couldn’t quite stop herself from flushing.

“Feel how hard you are for me…” she continued, not allowing him to see how the friction of his throbbing length pressing into her wet folds was driving her to a point of no return.

“I’ll fuck you until you regenerate,” she promised. “So hard, so fast so forceful. You’ll never know what hit you. Would you like that? Would you like me t’make you cum… and cum… and cum?”

The Doctor flinched at the mention of regeneration, felt panic begin to creep in. He couldn’t regenerate, couldn’t… _I don’t want to go, not yet—not ever._

“You can’t make me regenerate. You can’t you can’t you _can’t_ —!” The panicked words spilled out before he could hold them back. He tensed beneath her, caught for a moment between fear and desire.

Rassilon, he needed her, _ached_ for her…

He shut his eyes, swallowed, opened them again and met her gaze. He wasn’t quite sure what she saw there, didn’t want to know.

“Take me,” he whispered. _“A chrostag sguir a dh’obair orm!”_

“No, I probably can’t,” she agreed, humming in thought. “Don’t mean I won’t try. You won’t be able t’walk right for days when I’m through with you…”

Standing on her knees she hooked her thumbs under her knickers and pulled until they tore away from her body. They’d already been ruined with her juices. Balling the fabric of her hands she shoved it into his face.

“Smell me…” she purred. “Take in my pheromones.” She watched him gulp in her scent, his throbbing cock twitching in need of coupling. Without warning she slammed down onto him, impaling his cock in her hot, hot, wet center. She couldn’t even stop the moan of pleasure that rocketed from her chest.

“Oh Fuck! You’re so hard!” she whined. Gripping his shoulders she rocked her hips, letting his length slip almost to the tip before slamming back down even harder than before.

“I’m gonna fuck you so hard, Doctor. You may not cum without permission.”

With that she set a hard, bruising and frantic pace not for his pleasure but that of her own.

“Yes, my Lady,” he gasped out, voice trailing off in a low groan. His head tilted back; he watched her through half-lidded eyes as she rode him fast and hard.

This was pure torture. He couldn’t do anything, couldn’t touch her, could only move with her as fire threatened to consume him from the inside out. (At least she was finally touching him now, even if it was only for her own support.)

The Lady did not let up, riding him ragged. Soon her moans weren’t put upon at all, but real and in earnest. Her nails claws into the skin on his chest, sweat dripping down her face. She hadn’t just ridden a client for her own pleasure in far too long. “Let me hear you, Doctor...” she groaned, tits bouncing with her fast and hard rhythm. “Let me hear how it feels t’be inside someone with my face! C’mon, give me all the filthy fucking words a Time Lord knows!”

If he said anything right now, he knew it wouldn’t be in English—it would be in either his native tongue, Gaelic, or a mixture of both languages. But then she did _something_ , his mind went blank and hazy with pleasure for a few brief heartbeats, and then he was rambling on to her in Scottish: she was all liquid heat and teeth and claws and felt bloody _fantastic_ and he _needed_ to cum, wanted to feel her go over first; he wanted to touch her, taste her; he wanted _her_ tasting _him_. …

At the sound of his voice she took him even harder… if that were possible. The bed rocked with the force of her passion, slamming into the wall. It wasn’t often she was wild like this with someone, but tonight she was nothing but need. Carnal need. Not for his pleasure at all, but her own.

Her vision began to blur with each slap to her womb that came faster and without abandon. Her nails dug into his shoulders for a moment, watching his face as she rode him.

“That’s it,” she growled out. “Oh yes, Doctor!” With those words she leaned down and bit into his neck, suckling a love mark there to rival any that he could leave on her skin. But even then it wasn’t enough and she needed more.

Pulling out, she flipped so her back was to him and in one go impaled herself on his cock once more. This change in angle was what she needed to find her release, but she wasn’t ready yet. Oh no… she was to draw this out for a long as possible. Continuing her bruising pace on his shaft she rode him hard, moans wanton and needy. She arched her back, placed both hands on his shoulders and pistoned in and out. In. Out. IN. OUT!

“Aaaaahhhhhh…. fuck!!!! Doctor. Feel how fucking wet I am for you? Fuck….fuck…fuck!!!! Cum for me!!!”

Her walls gave only one warning…. a small quiver that her release was nearing… and then the slammed down around him. She came harder than she probably ever had before, wailing out her release and undulating with each wave of pleasure he caused, milking him.

He groaned softly—his only warning—and then he was coming hard, spilling himself inside her as her walls gripped him tight, milking him until he had nothing else to give.

For a brief moment his control slipped, had him reaching out with extra limbs he usually kept inactive to caress her warm, _human_ skin. They only just grazed her stomach before he snatched them back and regained control. The Doctor found himself hoping she hadn’t noticed, that she was too caught up in her own pleasure to care.

Stars danced in her eyes, but even in her haze of pleasure she hadn’t missed the feel of hands on her skin where they decidedly shouldn’t be. She rolled her hips a few more times, riding out his aftershocks.

“Well, that was a new trick,” she purred. “Extra limbs, hmmm? Oh, that’s very _very_ naughty, Doctor…” With that she lifted her hips and let him slip out of her, uncaring at the mess he left in his wake. She wiped a finger through her folds, turning and stuck her finger in his mouth. “Suck!” she commanded. “Taste yourself on me, Time Lord. And don’t think I’m finished with you. We have all night. You paid top price for an all nighter with me. I intend t’make it worth your while…”

The Doctor’s eyes glinted wickedly, flashed for a moment with something _other_ ; then he was sucking her finger, deliberately slowly swirling his tongue around the single digit. <Not if I make it worth _your_ while first, my Lady, > he whispered across her mind. <And just one night wouldn’t be _near_ enough. >

The voice in her head was both startling and unnerving. Her eyes darkened in both lust and anger. <You did not ask permission to enter my mind, Time Lord,> she sent with a dark tone to her mental voice. <And now I’ll have to punish you properly.>

Without a word of warning she sat back and turned him over, his arms twisting a bit around themselves. She shoved his knees up so his arse way high in the air and finished her move with a harsh slap to his right cheek. “COUNT!” she shouted, spanking him a second time, harder.

He grunted at the sting of the second slap against his arse, spit out the number two through gritted teeth that were slightly more pointed than normal.

No, they couldn’t lose control, couldn’t couldn’t _couldn’t_ … There was no telling what they—he?—would do to her if they did.

Another slap, another counting off of single-digit numbers. Again, and again, and— _oh fuck this was turning him on nononono._

With each sting pain mingled with pleasure, had the parts of them that were in higher dimensions writhing, straining to come out and _touch_ and _take_ and _feast_ —

They didn’t want that, didn’t want to hurt her but they wouldtheywould _theywould_ —

She gets him to ten before she’s satisfied. She sits on her knees behind him, kneading his arse with her hands to lessen the sting.

“Gooood boooy,” she purred, rocking into him and bit. Her fingers explored the rump of his bottom, trailed down the back of his thighs and then took a turn, trailing back up the inside of his thighs.

“Very good boy,” she murmured and one hand cupped his bollocks tenderly, kneading each sack slowly. “D’you remember your safe word, Doctor?”

“It’s ‘red,’ my Lady,” he gasped out, then groaned, shuddered as she cupped and played with him.

She had no _idea_ what he was, what they could do to her if she pushed them too far; but they needed this, needed _her_ …

Her hand moved to stoke his length. He was a bit soft from his last orgasm, but that was okay… she was going to stroke him hard again. She took her time, slowly running up and down the whole shaft.

“Good…” she groaned out, slipping her index finger into his ass. “Good boy… Use it if this become too much stimulation. I don’t want you t’cum, I want you needy. You’ll cum when I cum.”

The Doctor nodded, moaned an affirmative. He rutted into her hand, sent out one searching tentacle, snatched it back before it could make contact with her again.

They couldn’t afford to lose control, but if she kept this up…

“ _Yes_ …”

She hummed deeply in the back of her throat, pumping her finger slowly in time with her hand on his cock. “Oh don’t hide those beautiful limbs from me,” she purred. “You may touch me as you wish…” She rolled her hips into his own, working his length, his entrance, then spat into his hole for lubrication, adding a second finger. “Let me hear you, Time Lord. Let me hear how much you like this….”

Her permission was all the encouragement they needed. They caressed, teased with faint, barely-there touches with their extra limbs—claiming, marking. _She’s mine, she’s mine, she’smineshe’smineshe’smine…_

Except she wasn’t, not really, but that was of little importance and so they shoved it aside.

At her second command there was a brief moment of confusion (it had been a long time since they’d allowed themselves to fully utilize their other senses, after all) and then it clicked: _words. Verbal. Mouth-sounds_.

Oh, yes, this particular body could certainly do that.

(Whether or not what they were currently saying was in English was a different matter altogether.)

She continued her slow ministrations to his sex, hand gliding along his length, while the second stretched him. She curled her fingers and… _there_ … that’s the spot within that would drive him to the brink.

<You’re absolutely gorgeous like this, Doctor,> she sent mentally, her inner awareness twisting around his own, cradling him, caressing… <So needy for me. You’re true self laid bare before me. I could take you like this. Make you cum a second time with just my hands. Would you like that? D’you want t’soil my bedsheets with your seed?>

She knew he wanted to claim her… mark her for himself. Most Time Lords did. It was the fault in their make-up to be drawn to her face, her presence. Her very being. She rocked his entire body with her motions. <Let go, Doctor… let me break you and I’ll reward you…>

<Yes. Yesyes _yes_. … > He shuddered at her mental touch, groaned low in his throat. It rose sharply to a keen, an incoherent cry as the second orgasm broke over him, left him spent and trembling and panting hard over soiled sheets.

And it still wasn’t enough, would _never_ be enough…

The Lady sighed when he came, allowing him to destroy her bed sheets. She smirked darkly, pulling her fingers from his entrance and using that hand to finally release the handcuffs at his wrist. Gently she helped him to turn and lay on the cleaner sheets to the side, guiding him to lay on his back.

She hovered over him, lips just barely touching his own. “Relax, Doctor,” she whispered. “Just rest here and enjoy the afterglow.”

With that, she climbed out of bed and slipped into the ensuite bathroom. She took her time cleaning herself, making sure she was ready for round three. There would be a round three… she always saw to that with her clients. He’d be no different.

Snaking back into the room she once again crawled over his naked body, pressing hot, open mouthed kisses along his body as she climbed up.

<Now, Doctor… how would you like t’claim me, hmm?> she projected, sending an image of him pounding her fast and furious, the way she’d taken him not too long ago.

His response was a low growl as he gripped her tight and rolled them over so that he was the one on top. <Oh, yes, and I will—but not just yet.> His mouth found the hollow of her throat; he rasped his tongue over her warm-copper-salty- _human_ skin and the _other_ part of his nature growled softly as he tasted Time on her as well.  <I want you writhing beneath me, _desperate_ for my touch. >

He moved lower, swirled his tongue around the aerola of her right breast. <I want you _begging_ , pleading for me to be inside you; want to drive you _insane_ with need and hear your screams as I take you over and fill you with my seed. > One phantom limb ghosted possessively over her womb at those words; then he was concentrating the full extent of his oral fixation on her breast, moved to the other and gave it the same treatment before pressing a trail of kisses down her stomach.

<I’d like t’see you try…> she purred into his mind allowing him to explore her body. She drew her bottom lip between her teeth, arching her body into his mouth. It was very clear to her that he’d never taken advantage of his Rose, and the way he was worshiping her every inch of skin… perhaps this one loved his Rose.

<You loved her didn’t you?> she asked in his mind. <You loved her more than the entire universe and you lost her. D’you want me t’be her, Doctor? D’you want me t’be Rose Tyler?>

<Yes,> he said telepathically after a moment. <And I never told her, handed her off to a half-ape clone and had _him_ say the words instead. > His physical hands—the ones that were visible in the first three dimensions—clenched tightly in the sheets on either side of her as he fought back the sudden wave of anger at his younger, _stupid_ self.

When it subsided, he found he couldn’t look at her; focused instead on teasing a patch of pink skin near her navel with lips and tongue. <Do you want to be her?> he asked her eventually, answering her last question with another one. <If you don’t it’s—> He couldn’t say all right or okay, because it wouldn’t be either. This woman may wear the same face, but she wasn’t his Rose.

(It wasn’t as if he should have cared about this at all—he was a Time Lord, not a human; was well above those biped primates and wasn’t really even all that humanoid at all, just looked like one on the outside.)

(But damn Rassilon’s rules and his younger self’s reluctance to become closer to her—she always had been this incarnation’s weakness [well, one of them, anyway].)

“I was Rose once…” she whispered. “That was my name. But I disowned her when one of you duplicates… a different universe’s version of you…”

She couldn’t finish her story. It was always too hard to think about that time. And no! NO! This wasn’t that version anyway. She could tell his timeline was similar to her original Doctor… he could have been her Doctor. Her Doctor could have turned into him…

“Say my name, Doctor,” she relented finally. <Tell me who I am Help me remember…>

The Doctor lifted his head, met her gaze. “ _Rose Tyler_ ,” he growled softly before crawling his way up her body and kissing her throat, her mouth. <Tell me you want me,> he whispered in her mind, his mental voice sounding almost desperate. <Cos I’m addicted to you and one night won’t be enough, no matter how many times I keep running into your face or how often I’ll come back here.> His hands—all of them, even the ones she couldn’t see—were skimming over her body, reverting her to memory.

Then he broke the kiss, moved back down her body and nudged her legs to part for him. “ _Tell me_ ,” he ordered, brown eyes that were suddenly a kaleidoscope of colors (every one he’d ever had) boring into her own golden-brown ones.

<I…> she _did_ … Oh, she did. She wanted to believe that even for a moment there was a Doctor that loved her. Not just a version of her, but the one in bed right now. A Doctor that needed her. That would do anything for her.

His eyes, his hands, the way he spoke in her mind. It was such a heady experience and she craved him. <I don’t want you…> she projected. <I need you. I desire you. I have to have you. Once is never enough. I need you over and over and over.>

She hadn’t been so candid to a Time Lord since her husband… since that version of him that…

<Take me…>

<Oh, I will. But first…> The Doctor shot her a filthy grin, then bent their head. <I _did_ tell you I wanted you to beg, wanted to drive you absolutely _mad_. >

Then they were tasting, _feasting_. Her scent, taste, was intoxicating, addicting and for a moment they wondered why they’d never done this when she’d been traveling with them. Oh. Right. It would have made losing her hurt that much more.

She was putty in his hands, properly letting go of her control of this situation. Somewhere deep in her heart, something shifted and she allowed herself to imagine that she was somewhere else…

Not in a brothel at all with a different Time Lord, but on the TARDIS. In his room maybe. And it was _him_ touching her.

“Tell me all the things you’ve wanted t’do t’me…” she whispered. <Show me how much this means to you… I need to know how you feel…>

 _Tell_ her? They couldn’t tell her; they were far _far_ too busy with other matters—but they could show her, oh yes, they could do that.

Instead of speaking, they sent her impressions, images, all of the secret, erotic fantasies they’d had from when she was traveling with them. (They needed the telepathic contact as much, if not _more_ , than the physical, needed her to _understand_ …)

The Lady threw her head back and moaned softly. <It’s been so long since anyone’s been in my head…> she projected, allowing the images to further spur her on. Her hips undulate of their own accord, seeking friction for her own release. She needed to cum… needed him to make her cum… needed him to cum with her, feel him cum with her. <Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.>

The Doctor indulged himself in tasting her a few seconds more; then drew back, rose up over her. His mind stayed within hers, careful not to intrude on anything more than surface impressions and feelings—he absolutely did _not_ want to piss off the Wolf that lived in her psyche. (It could end very badly for him if he did.)

<Well, humans aren’t normally telepathic,> he couldn’t resist pointing out. <Latent psychic abilities, yes. Telepathy, no.> If she didn’t stop him, he was going to end up rambling on about just what sort of latent psychic abilities some humans possessed and why their brains weren’t usually meant for telepathy. Which, really, was _not_ something he wanted to go into at the moment.

So, in order to distract himself from that train of thought, he bent his head to her throat and latched onto the junction where neck met shoulder. (He still wasn’t inside her, not yet—she was still mostly in control, after all, and he wanted to hear her _beg_.)

“’M not human,” she moaned out, hips raising to meet his own. She dragged her wet slick along his shaft to point out how ready she was to receive him. Her hands snaked behind his bum, gasping his flesh hard enough to sting, nails digging into him. “Please, Doctor…” she continued in his mind. With that, she opened the flood gates of her mind so he could feel her desperate lust and need for him, the silent plea for him to bring her to her climax.

Well, that was good enough for him, he decided, taking her silent invitation and entering her in one stroke. He was still for a few seconds to allow her body to adjust; then he set a slow rhythm.

She _would_ come to climax; he’d see to that—just not yet.

<Relax, my Lady,> he whispered inside her mind. <Let me take you where you take me.>

Allowing him to take the lead, she heaves out deep pants and relaxes back in the bed just before he slips through her wet, tight entrance. She can’t help herself… she moans like a tart, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and pulling him down so she can bite into his shoulder. As he moved, she met him thrust for thrust, the sound of him in her wet slick was the only sound in the room other than her wanton moans.

<Y-y-ou feel fucking incredible!> she projected. <D’you feel how perfectly we match one another?>

The Doctor was silent for a long few seconds, save for a gasp as her teeth sank into his shoulder.  <Yes,> he said at last.

There was a reason for that, but if she hadn’t guessed it before now and the Doctor she’d traveled with in the past hadn’t told her, then this was certainly not the time to tell her why this tenth body was such a good match for hers. (He hadn’t even dared admit it to himself until now, and it wasn’t exactly something he wanted to say out loud or telepathically—even to her.)

Three-dimensional hands slid up the curves of her body to rest on either side of her head and find purchase in the sheets as he continued to move within her; extra hands skimmed along the contours of her ribs, back, slid from hips to the outsides of her upper legs.

<Say you’re mine.> The thought slipped out in thought-speak before he could take it back—and once it was out, he didn’t _want_ to take it back.

Her eyes snapped open and suddenly she remembered who she was. <No…> she projected. <I’m not yours. I can never be yours.>

She rolled them once more, pinning him under her. Her hands on his shoulders pressing him down into the mattress. “I am not Rose,” she said aloud, still undulating over him, pressing him deeper and deeper into her tight centre. “I will never _be_ Rose again. I am your fuck toy for the night. That’s all I can be.” She stilled at that, he was deep inside her, all the way to the hilt. “Can you live with that?”

The Doctor gave himself a mental kick at her words. Stupid, _stupid_ of him to forget that this wasn’t _his_ Rose (even though she could have been) and that he was here for only one night, as well as he’d _known_ that when he’d made the arrangements to see her.

She was just a fix and nothing more.

“Yes.” The word came out clipped, sounding a tad colder than he’d intended. And right now he didn’t want to bottom; he wanted to top her, see and feel her beneath him as she came.

(Being a Sub, even for her, was not in his nature, after all—and his patience and limits had been tried enough for one night.)

His hands found purchase on her skin, dug in as he flipped them over, reversing their positions. He ducked his head, nipped at her clavicle. <But you’re _mine_ for one night, my Lady—and I intend to make the most of it. >


	2. Chapter 2

She gasped as he took the lead and for once, she didn’t fight him. He’d made his point and it was time to give him what he desired so very much. She was in the business of pleasure after all. And he had her all night.

She glanced over at the clock and saw it was nowhere near close to dawn when he would be escorted out. No, he still had several hours left… which meant eventually she could regain control. Part of the battle is knowing when to fight and when to allow it.

<Then fuck me, Doctor,> she challenged, hooking her legs around his waist and pulling him deep, deep, _deep_ inside her wet core.  <Fuck me until you fill me with your seed and then keep going. I want to see how long you can go… C’mon, Doctor. Chase your release and don’t hold back.>

He growled deep in his throat, inside her mind; lifted his head from her shoulder to meet her challenging gaze. <Oh, I _will_ fuck you until you won’t be able to walk straight, but right now… > Deliberately, he pulled halfway out and then began a slow, languid rhythm. Cool lips covered hers; he begged entrance with a swipe of his tongue. <I want to please you,> he whispered across her mind. <Just this once _, a chroi_ , give into me.> 

 <Please me?> she projected back, a bit of a tease in her inner voice. She flexed her inner walls around his swollen length, holding him deep _deep_ in her channel. The reaction he gave her to that made her smirk proudly.  <You already have pleased me this evening, Doctor. D’you not remember how hard I fucked you on your back?> She squeezed him again with her inner walls, somehow drawing him further inside. <Please me, Doctor. Make me cum harder than I’ve ever cum b’fore. Make me cum so hard the whole building shakes…>

He said nothing, just allowed his emotions to flood over their mental link: pleasure, anticipation, what he supposed humans would call _love_ —there was a word for it in Gallifreyan, but it didn’t exactly translate into English.

His mouth nuzzled at the hollow of her throat as he continued his slow movements in and out of her slick heat. <Is that all you humans think about when it comes to pleasing your partner—your physical release?> He couldn’t help it if he sounded slightly irritated, but the irritation vanished as he slid his consciousness alongside hers, teased and caressed with intertwining, barely-there mental touches. <There are times when I need more than that, my Lady.> Phantom hands brushed over her bare skin, ghosted down her body.

<Earlier you wanted me to prove to you how much I loved my Rose,> he reminded her. <So let me show you.>

<That’s what all clients want first,> she explained. <Their release and the satisfaction of giving me mine. ‘S rare when a client wants more than that…>

A small moan, accompanied with a shiver, came when she felt his awareness questing and mingling with her own. It would bring one hell of a headache later, having not used this portion of her mind for many years. But she couldn’t stop him… it felt so good to feel him both within her heat and her head.

<Yes…> she begged, back arching, her head falling back further to give him better access to his throat. For once, just this one time, she would let go her control… allow him to ~~make love to her~~ give them what they both needed.  <Show me, Doctor. Let me feel all of you….>

His sense of relief flashed over their mental link; then he was taking her silent invitation to explore her throat in earnest. When he was done, he lifted his head and brushed a kiss over her forehead, then hovered centimeters over her mouth. <Kiss me,> he whispered, punctuating his request with a roll of his hips on his next thrust. <Please.>

(She insisted that she wasn’t Rose, wasn’t _his_ Rose, but her mind was the same, _felt_ the same except for the presence of Bad Wolf; ergo, she _was_ Rose. No matter how much he’d changed since Bowie Base One and the Time Lords’ _very_ brief return he still— Rassilon, even inside his own head he couldn’t say it, and he supposed he owed that little hard-to-break habit of his to both Fitz Kreiner and Charley Pollard.)

The Lady responded, craning her head up to catch his mouth with her own. It’s deep, heated, passionate. <I need you t’move, Doctor,> she pleaded, reminding him that he was fully sheathed in her heat and still. She rolled her hips to get the point across, but the combined feeling of filling and being filled by him suddenly overwhelmed her awareness. Suddenly, she didn’t know where she ended and he began. They were one body, moving in time together through waves of pleasure.

He gasped into her mouth as she rolled her hips; couldn’t stop kissing her as he moved in and out of her heat. Like her, soon he no longer knew where they separated; and even if he wanted to retreat back into his own mind… he wouldn’t.

Through their link he murmured to her in Gaelic, sent her his feelings and impressions. It wasn’t quite a bond, but if he wasn’t careful… he could very well end up accidentally binding her to him—and he _knew_ she wouldn’t appreciate that at all; besides, it wasn’t his place, she wasn’t _his_ Rose, and he’d be gone in the morning, was only here for one night…

Lady couldn’t help the wanton moans that fell from her lips as he claimed her. At some point through their time together she forgot who she was and started to think of herself as Rose again. Perhaps it was because she gave him access to her mind, perhaps not… She couldn’t be certain of anything anymore, just that he felt so fucking good buried deep in her hot channel and she was nowhere near done with him.

It was so much.

And never enough.

And he was so perfectly made to fit her, like no other man in any universe could be.

Golden light began to emanate in her mind’s eye and she followed it, chasing their combined release.

<Yes.. yes, Doctor… I feel you…> she projected. <More. I need more. I need t’cum.>

<Then let go, _a chroi_ ,> he murmured, lifting his head to look at her as he slowly rolled his hips on his next thrust deep inside her. <Cum for me. I need to see you, please. …>

Old High Gallifreyan tumbled from his lips, his tone desperate, as he drove into her again and again, determined to lose himself in her—body and mind: _I need you, I need you, I need you; don’t ever want to leave you again, Rose. Can’t lose you again. Please, pleasepleaseplease forgive me, let me stay…_

He couldn’t quiet his sudden desperation, couldn’t stop it from flooding through their link—didn’t want to stop it. She _was_ Rose, which meant she was _his_ , and even though he could feel her pleasure through their mental bond he couldn’t quite sense her emotions… (Which wasn’t fair, really, or so he thought.)

And he wanted to climax with her (or as close as possible, anyway), wanted to see her as she fell…

Normally she would punish him for calling her by her proper name and not Lady. But the tone in his pleading was enough punishment for this Time Lord. He’d reached his breaking point and it was only too soon that he’d finally release, whimpering and wailing for her.

But that small part of her that was still Rose was bleeding for him. Begging for him, pleading that he would be her Doctor. It mattered not that he was someone else, that he wasn’t her Doctor at all but a darker alternate version of the one she loved. He felt like the Doctor, made love to her like the Doctor had, spoke to her in that same silky tone and her body was responding in the same way.

Her climax came before she could warn him. Her whole body arching up as she cried out his name. His proper name… the one only a wife would know. A musical and magical language no human should be able to speak… but she wasn’t human anymore…

The feel of her body clenching around him, arching toward him; the sound of her crying out his true name… It was enough to send him over. He groaned low in his throat, silently called out her name in his native language as his own climax swept over him. At last, sated and struggling not to let his respiratory bypass kick in, he rolled over onto his side, wincing slightly as the action caused him to slip from her body.

Still, he nestled close to her, wrapped one arm around her waist and propped himself up on his other elbow. He slowly kissed her throat, her mouth, before hovering close to her ear. “Tell me you still love me,” he whispered—pleaded. (Rassilon, what _was_ it about her, about that face, that drove him to _this_? To begging like a common ape that didn’t possess telepathy.) “ _Please_ , Rose, I need to hear you say it. …”

His hearts beat faster, then slowed, threatened to sink down into one of his stomachs. If she said she didn’t, if she was going to punish him for this…

No, he had to get this right, had to, had to, _had to_ …

The loss of him from her heat elicited a sad moan. She was still swimming through the combined sensation of their link and for a moment the words almost come flying from her mouth until her amber eyes lock on his…

“Does it need saying?” she whispered, though not at all unkindly. There was remorse, real true, honest remorse in her voice. It was not that she didn’t want to say it… it was that if she did… if she let those words slip from her mouth and into his ears it would be her undoing.

She had all but given up her feelings for the Doctor. Any Doctor. And certainly not this one that was more terrified of her than she of him. She was not his Rose… she never would be…

His head jerked back at that; his gaze met hers, hurt, wounded, before anger crept in. Then he sighed, and just as quickly it had appeared the anger and hurt vanished from his eyes to be replaced by resignation. “No, I suppose it doesn’t.”

The hand on her waist almost absently began to glide down her hip, the outside of her thigh before moving back up to its original position and starting over again. Without really thinking about it, about the consequences, he tilted his head, touched his forehead to hers, closed his eyes as their link flared at the contact.

Rassilon, even _this_ managed to make the aching silence in his head more bearable, yet he couldn’t help noticing just how subdued her emotions were, could sense _something_ in her mind like a gaping hole… but he didn’t want to go there, didn’t want to pry any further. He respected her, loved her ( _she **is** Rose_ , his brain kept insisting) too much for that; and besides, his own psyche wasn’t the best picture of mental health or stability either.

His own feelings, emotions were raging, more than enough to make up for hers, and it was a struggle for him to control them, to keep from overpowering hers.

It seemed to him like he’d been in her mind for several spans, yet when he broke the link only a few seconds had passed. He stared at her for a moment, silent; then, quietly, calmly—too calmly: “You can’t tell me that meant _nothing_ to you, my lo— Lady.”

Oh… she caught that… that slip of the tongue that almost ended in him spilling his hearts to her finally. But she wasn’t at all surprised he didn’t follow through with that statement.

“Is that what you want me t’say?” she asked causally. “’Cause you and I both know what’ll happen if I say anything you want me t’say, Doctor. This is who I am now… this is what I do. I make a living givin’ pleasure t’men that need it. And sometimes women. If I told every client what they wanted me to tell ‘em I’d be out of business.”

“Yes,” he said in answer to her question. Then: “No. I don’t know.” He sighed in frustration and raked one hand through his mess of chestnut hair. She was right, much as he hated to admit it—not that he’d ever say it out loud.

Brown eyes shut then snapped open, bored into hers—and he wasn’t sure what she saw in his eyes, didn’t want to know. He shifted so he was partly above her, lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her deeply. Eventually he broke the kiss, pressed his lips to just beneath the hollow of her throat, then her collarbone.

 _“Tha mo ghion ort,”_ he whispered against her skin, knowing she wouldn’t be able to understand him—and it was so, _so_ hard for him to say it in English. _“Mur eil nas leòr ann, chan aithne dhomh dé nì e.”_

She _did_ understand. He didn’t know about the tiny TARDIS seedling she still kept in a hidden terrarium in the corner of her room. “Quite right too,” she whispered, not throwing it at him in malice at all. She cradled him to her chest, giving in for just a moment. “I know, Doctor. I’ve always known.”

She rubbed his back in soothing circles for a moment, before turning his chin up to lock eyes with him. “Would that I were a different person,” she continued in her whisper. “Were I still Rose, I’d tell you…  _Ngudia’sa lam su mich’t_.”

He froze, muscles tensing, hearts faltering in their four-beat rhythm as he met her gaze and her words reached his ears. _Were I still Rose,_ she’d said, and then in Gallifreyan: _Don’t doubt my love for you._

Rassilon, he _wanted_ her to be Rose, _his_ Rose—but she wouldn’t admit it, would never admit it. As much as his telepathy _insisted_ she was his Rose, her behavior, attitude, and the presence of Bad Wolf… contradicted that.

“What about _you_?” The question slipped out before he could hold it back, and once it left his mouth he wanted to kick himself—or curl up into a pandimensional ball. _Idiot. Idiot, idiot, **idiot.** _

He shouldn’t have come here, shouldn’t have requested a night with her, shouldn’t have…

Fourth-dimensional tentacles twitched in agitation, the feelers poking at the hundreds of possible outcomes for this conversation, how the rest of the night would play out. One gave up on that and caressed the outside of her right thigh before lightly curling around her calf.

In the back of his mind he was fairly certain he’d crossed some sort of boundary somewhere, and vaguely aware that she _was_ still in control and could punish him if she saw fit…

(He didn’t care.)

“Why are you pushin’ for this?” she asked honestly. She didn’t react to the tentacle that wrapped around her calf. She’d ignore it for now, recognizing he was slowly losing his grip on reality. “I can’t! I can’t do it no more. I can’t do the runnin’ and the mind games and the I love you one day and the next I’ll just swan off t’the bottom of a pit with the devil himself and refuse t’say it when it matters, Doctor. I had my slow path with you for a time. Now we both gotta move on.” She sat up a bit, propping her weight on one elbow. “This is a one-time thing. It has t’be. For both our sakes. You can’t keep me, just like I can’t ever keep you.”

The Doctor growled in frustration, knowing she was right and yet refusing to admit it. He tilted his head back to look at her, a stubborn, mutinous glint in his brown eyes.

<And if I _did_ try to keep you? > The words slithered into her mind. <What would you do—punish me for it?>

He unraveled the tentacle from her calf, careful not to nick her with the serrated bone-like edge, and lowered his head, deliberately swirled his tongue over her left areola. <Besides, like I told you earlier—I’m addicted to you. Not only do you taste like… well, yourself, you’ve got Time in you as well. Do you have _any_ idea how _intoxicating_ that is to a Time Lord, my Lady? >

He wasn’t really looking for an answer, so he stopped teasing her breast and instead rolled off her and onto his back, draped one arm over her hips and tugged gently, hoping she’d pick up on what he wanted.

 _Take me, claim me_ … He _needed_ her—couldn’t she see that?

Lady went along with it, but she didn’t do what he wanted. She’d given him enough control for one night. “Get out of my head, _Time Lord_ ,” she spat the word like a curse. “I ain’t your Rose no matter how much ya want me t’be. Now, I’ve given ya what ya paid for, so I think ‘s best if ya get out of m’bed and back t’your bloody TARDIS so ya can find the next companion and break her heart too.”

The Doctor shot up into a sitting position at her words, his eyes flashing. He opened his mouth as though he were going to say something, then apparently thought better of it and closed it, dipped his head to her. “As you wish.”

Now, he figured, was _not_ the time to tell her about the half-bond he’d accidentally forged. So he slid off the bed, gathered his clothes and put them on before padding over to the doorway. Hand on the doorknob, he paused and looked back over his shoulder at her, opened his mouth to say something. Almost instantly he closed it again.

Anything he would have said would have been trite, anyway.

Without another word, he opened the door, stepped out into the hall, and shut the door behind him, slid down the wall directly beside it without bothering to slip his shoes back on.

 _Should’ve quit while you were ahead, Doctor_ , he thought bitterly, mental voice half-mocking, half-scathing.

Still… it wasn’t quite dawn yet. So he supposed he wouldn’t do any harm in sitting outside Suite 10 and waiting. (For what, he wasn’t quite sure.)

It was an hour later than the breakfast service was brought to her door. Madame Lyss frowned down at the bloke sitting on the floor.

“She won’t take pity on you,” she stated coldly. “It is best for you to move on. If I come out and you are still here, you will be forcibly removed and you will not be able to book her a second time.”

With that, the older woman stepped over his legs and through the door into Lady’s room.

The Doctor shot a cold glare over his shoulder at the door to Suite Ten, where the older human woman was meeting with the Lady. If he concentrated, he could probably hear their conversation—if he wanted to, that is.

Suddenly, he didn’t want to be anywhere near here. And he really didn’t want to be banned from the premises…

(Besides, she wasn’t _his_ Rose.)

Reluctantly, he pulled on his shoes and rose to his feet, wondered briefly just how long he could push his luck before the other woman exited the Lady’s room.

_No, better not risk it._

It was best to leave now, maybe hide out somewhere else for a bit… or just head back to his TARDIS, possibly return later…

So he shot one last look back at the door, expression unreadable to anyone that might have been watching, and began the walk back out of the brothel that would lead him to his Ship.


End file.
